


the world is quiet here

by inspiringmadness



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Dragons, F/F, Fluff, Hicsqueak, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Parenthood, Useless Lesbian Hardbroom (Worst Witch), War, ignoring confinement, pippa's been waiting, post S1, slowish burn, sorry julie + co, sorta in the background though, very gay dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiringmadness/pseuds/inspiringmadness
Summary: In a single night, Mildred’s life collapses around her. As she learns to heal, she gains an unlikely guardian, who unwillingly and unwittingly offers a link to a bright, magical, dangerous world beyond their own. And though Mildred’s heart is good and her intentions pure, her interference within this newly revealed world will have its consequences.
Relationships: Hecate Hardbroom & Mildred Hubble, Hecate Hardbroom/Pippa Pentangle, Mildred Hubble & Pippa Pentangle
Comments: 41
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - none of these characters (except ocs) belong to me, I'm just having fun :)  
> Title from ASOUE  
> unbeta'd  
> all feedback very much appreciated
> 
> Just a heads up, I'll be putting tw before each chapter whenever they apply, erring on the side of too many (better safe than sorry). So tw: death (nothing graphic)

Life moves quickly, perhaps too much so. In the blink of an eye, nothing is as it was. 

One moment, they were driving steadily along the rain-slicked road, lights illuminating the path ahead, the night silent but for the soft rumbling of the engine. (There was danger, of course. The car could have lost its grip and slipped away into the night. But what is life without that sense of danger?)

The next, the world was spinning, twisting away until they came to a stop with a sickening crash, heads slamming against the dashboard. The world stood still. The birds dared not sing, the wind dared not blow. The only movement in the still, still night was the smoke standing stark against the gentle glow of the moon as it rose, curling from the wreckage.

By the time Mildred was pulled from what had once been their family car, the world had regained motion. But it was too fast. The people surging past her blurred with the flashing lights until they were hazy slashes across a dark backdrop, bright sparks that sputtered out the moment she lost sight of them. She could hear people speaking, perhaps to her, but their voices too faded to the background until the noise was no more than an indistinct murmur.

Trying to rise from the stretcher she had been placed on, Mildred found herself trapped, pushed back by a careful hand. From somewhere above her, she could hear quiet reassurances being whispered to her, but they flowed languidly past her, not a single drop sticking. And as Mildred fought the hand on her chest, she called out for the one person who could always make it all better.

“Mum!” Muffled by the oxygen mask strapped to her face, her voice cracked, hoarse from what felt like hours of drifting in and out of consciousness, the only constants: the throbbing pain in her head and the thick smoke smothering her, stealing the very air from her throat.

“Mildred—”

“Mum!” She screamed again, pain flaring in her chest as she fought for breath. Her eyes burned, but someone caught her hand before she could rub them.

“Mildred.” A familiar face filled her field of view, blocking out the chaos Mildred couldn’t stop watching, though she didn’t understand it. “They’re getting her out now. I need you to take some nice big breaths for me. It’s gonna to be alright.”

But Mildred knew Leanne. She’d known her since her mum started working at the hospital, before magic was real, before the accident. And Mildred wasn’t stupid. She could see the furrow between the paramedic’s eyes, the tense set of her mouth, the short wisps of dark, curly hair, tinged with grey slipping out of her usually pristine bun, the furtive glances towards the car.

It was then that it hit her. Something in Leanne’s eyes, perhaps, that she saw before she was dragged back into that dark abyss of nothingness, her eyes fluttering shut. Something that made her stomach drop and her heart freeze.

_It’s not going to be alright._

* * *

When Mildred finally came to, it wasn’t for long. She barely had enough time to register her new surroundings, the sterile, white walls and the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor, before falling back into unconsciousness. She slipped in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. And maybe a doctor or nurse came to check on her as she slept, but every time she woke, she was alone.

But then she wasn't. When she woke for the fifth or sixth time, someone was sitting by her bed, their hands clasped around one of her own. Sensing her stir, the person’s grip on her hand tightened, and they stood. Leanne. The woman broke into a tired grin with but a shadow of her usual intensity.

Mildred tried to speak, to ask after her mum, but all that came out was a weak croak, setting off a chain of hacking coughs that wracked her entire body. Propping Mildred up, Leanne helped her drink a few sips of water, the cool liquid immediately helping soothe the burning in the girl’s throat.

“Wh-Where’s Mum?” Her voice was still hoarse, but she managed to force the words out.

The small, tired smile slipped from Leanne's face, and she gently smoothed Mildred’s hair down, hands trembling.

“Oh, Millie.” Her voice broke at the girl’s name. “Your-your mum, she didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Mildred shook her head, and suddenly the stinging in her eyes wasn’t just from the smoke. “No, no, no, no, no. Sh-She can’t. No, you’re lying!”

“Millie, why would I lie to you?” The paramedic asked softly, her own tears welling up in response.

“Please, I want my mum,” the girl whimpered, turning pleading eyes to Leanne. “I want her, _please_.”

“I know.” She brushed the girl’s tears away and leaned over the bed, enveloping her in a warm embrace. “I know.”

* * *

Hecate awoke with a start, an alarm blaring at her from the mirror over her desk. With a wave of her hand, the incessant noise was silenced and she lurched out of bed, transferring to Ada's office, her hair still loose around her shoulders.

“Ada, what is it? Has something...happened?” She asked, hardly daring to know the answer. Only once before had she ever received that specific emergency mirror from Ada, and she shuddered to think of a repeat of that night.

“There has been an...accident. I'm afraid...Mildred Hubble’s mother is dead," Ada told Hecate, her grey eyes solemn. 

Hecate sank down into the chair in front of Ada’s desk at the news, perching on the edge of the seat, her back ramrod straight. She and Julie Hubble may not have been on the best of terms, but she hadn’t disliked the woman. And, she realized with a sinking heart, Mildred Hubble was now alone in the world, much like Hecate had once been. But rather than put that into words, she nodded stiffly. “I see.”

“As she has no remaining family in the non-magical world, I believe it would be in her best interest to have a magical guardian, one who can teach her about our ways and traditions and, of course, one who will be disciplined enough to keep her out of trouble as best they can.” Ada approached the topic carefully, but finished with a small chuckle as she thought of Mildred’s certain penchant for trouble, as if she were not discussing the fate of their newly orphaned student.

Hecate’s eyes widened when she saw Ada’s expectant look. “You are asking me to take in... _Mildred Hubble_?” She asked, her lip curled halfheartedly. 

“You are the best person for the job," Ada replied mildly, fixing her gaze on her deputy. 

“I am not. She…hates me," Hecate gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Hecate.” Ada accompanied her soft reprimand with a sympathetic look. “You can’t really still believe that. She looks up to you, and I know that you care for her.”

“Ada.” Hecate took the older woman’s hands in her own and, for once, let her see the vulnerability shining in her eyes of her own volition. “You know I cannot.”

“Yes,” Miss Cackle sighed, musing sadly to herself. “I rather did think you would say that.”

She stood and smoothed down her skirt before making her way to the plush armchairs in front of the empty fireplace, Hecate trailing silently behind.

“Tea?” Miss Cackle asked, summoning the pot.

“Thank you.” Hecate gave a small nod of thanks as she accepted the proffered cup. They sat without speaking for a few moments, the silence comforting in its familiarity.

When Ada finally spoke, it was a return to the previous topic. “Hecate, this girl has lost her mother. She _needs_ you.”

“She doesn’t need _me_.”

“I think she does. She looks up to you, she respects you. And you are an excellent—”

“I am no mother,” Hecate cut her off abruptly, punctuating her point with the sharp setting down of her teacup. With a softer tone she added, almost as an afterthought, “I can’t.”

“I was _going_ to say role model,” Ada chided gently, a sad smile her only response to her deputy’s unconvinced look. They lapsed into silence again, though it lasted not half the time of the first.

“How long's it been?” Ada’s quiet inquiry roused Hecate from her thoughts. She looked up, knowing she’d see a reflection of herself in the headmistress’ eyes. Mirror images of grief lurked in their eyes, though neither were willing to address it, one for fear of the other’s reaction, and the other for fear of memories long since buried.

“Eleven years,” _two weeks and five days_. The answer was quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Now.” Hecate’s usual brusque manner was back, and had she been speaking to anyone besides Ada Cackle, perhaps she would’ve seemed herself again. But as she wasn’t, she didn’t entirely succeed in covering up all traces of previous vulnerability. “I will go see Mildred and assess her condition. If she is well enough, I will bring her here until we find a...suitable guardian.”

Standing gracefully, she held a hand up to transfer, but stopped, looking down at the hand encircling her wrist and then to the warm, grey eyes she knew so well.

“We miss her too, Hecate.”

A small nod. The faintest of smiles that didn’t reach her dark eyes. “I know.”

She transferred away, reappearing by Mildred’s bed in the hospital. There was another woman there, hugging the girl, comforting her as she cried. And had Hecate been thinking clearly, she might have realized that transferring directly into Mildred’s room hadn’t been the best idea, but talks of _her_ never left her thinking very clearly.

“Mildred Hubble.” The words lacked their usual bite as her heart swelled painfully. In one night, the girl’s entire world had come crumbling down, just like Hecate’s had all those years ago.

Both Mildred and Leanne looked up at once. Mildred filled with relief, surely Miss Hardbroom could save her mum.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Leanne stood, putting herself between the teacher’s imposing figure and Mildred.

Miss Hardbroom drew herself up to her full height, looking down at the non-magical woman with a disdainful look, but before she could respond, Mildred called to her.

“Miss Hardbroom, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred called out, cutting off any of Leanne’s further attempts at an interrogation. Tears flooded down her face as she begged and pleaded. “Please, please, my mum. Please help her!”

In a few short strides, Miss Hardbroom was at the side of her bed. “Mildred Hubble,” she said again with uncharacteristic gentleness. “There is nothing more I can do.”

With a gentle touch to the girl’s forehead, Hecate sent her magic pulsating through the girl’s body, a calming flow that left Mildred’s own warm and content. Within moments, Mildred was asleep, and it was all Hecate could do to stop herself from smoothing the furrow in the girl’s brow. She was not a mother and certainly not that of Mildred Hubble.

“What do you want with her?” Leanne folded her arms over her chest, protective of the small girl lying in the bed.

With another disdainful look at the non-magical woman, Hecate summoned the bottle of forgetting powder hidden in the depths of her bedside table and blew it in the woman’s face before transferring away. She would be back for Mildred Hubble.

* * *

By the time Hecate returned, looking significantly more put together though forgoing her typical black dress for more _ordinary_ clothing, there was a second woman in Mildred’s room. After being made to _walk_ all the way to Mildred’s room, she found herself face to face with a short, older woman who seemed to have a certain fondness for the pale green that adorned her clothing and practically oozed insincerity. A social worker. Ada had warned her.

Though reluctant to do so, the woman did eventually leave after Hecate snapped. She had just given what she considered to be a completely satisfactory explanation for her relationship with Mildred (a distant aunt who had recently returned from a month long trip around Europe) and had grown tired of the woman’s insipid remarks and extensive blathering.

“Get. Out.” She pointed one long, black nail to the door. She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t need to; the woman cowered all the same and scurried out the door like the little vermin she was. With the woman finally gone, Hecate sank down by the girl’s bedside, ignoring the curious look Leanne was sending her.

Mildred wasn’t awake yet, so Hecate waited. And, of course, being Mildred Hubble, she only woke when Hecate’s back was stiff and her foot had long since fallen asleep. Mildred tried to call out to her but only succeeded in a hoarse croak toward her stern teacher.

“You’re awake. Good. The…doctors have requested that you stay here another night, and then you will be coming with me to the academy,” she informed Mildred matter-of-factly, missing the way her student drooped with a crestfallen look on her face.

“Cackle’s, but my—” she stopped abruptly, the events of the past 24 hours hitting her all at once. Her eyes filled with tears again and she took a ragged breath. “She’s,” her voice broke, “…she’s really gone?”

Hecate’s expression softened and she nodded, acutely aware of the other woman in the room watching her closely, “I’m sorry, Mildred, you...did not deserve this.”

“Why—” the girl gasped for a breath in-between her sobs, “why c-couldn’t you s-save her? Y-you’re the best w-witch.”

“I’m afraid _no_ magic is that powerful,” Hecate said softly.

Mildred didn’t answer, sobs still wracking her small body. And though Hecate was not her mother nor knew how to comfort her, she stayed with Mildred, hoping her presence was enough.

She stayed with Mildred through the night, long after Leanne left. She stayed at Mildred's bedside while the doctors examined her young pupil, barely managing not to curl her lip in distaste at their primitive poking and prodding. She stayed by the girl’s side when they were finally permitted to leave, scooping Mildred into her arms when the young witch sagged with exhaustion before transferring them to Cackle’s.

It was then, and only then, that she left. After carefully placing Mildred in her bed in that drafty, attic room and brushing her finger across the girl’s forehead with the lightest of touches to cast a wordless spell ( ~~that mothers learned for their daughters~~ ) so that her magic lay just atop Mildred's own, Hecate turned and transferred away.

She didn’t see one, final tear slip out of Mildred Hubble’s drooping eyes when the girl realized she was alone again nor how she curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pretend she was in her nice, soft bed at home. She didn't see how when that failed, Mildred opened her eyes, staring blankly into the darkness as she rocked back and forth singing her stuffed bear's little song in a shaky voice, hardly louder than a whisper. Perhaps if she had, she would have thought twice about her hasty decision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how were the characterizations? Was anyone really really ooc?
> 
> i told myself i wasn't going to post another long wip, but as it turns out, i am both too impatient and insecure for that lol. I do have the entire outline/around 50,000 words already though, so hopefully it won't suck if i do it like this. anywhoosies, thanks for reading! :)
> 
> There will be more, but updates probably won't be regular (sorry in advance!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: death + not super graphic scene w/body decaying

_Bright lights. A sickening crash. Spinning wildly out of control. Then everything was still. Too still._

_Dazed, Mildred called out for her mum, fingers fumbling with the buckle of her seatbelt. She couldn’t see, surrounded by thick smoke on all sides. Coughing, she finally managed to get the buckle undone and tentatively pushed the door open. When the expected, searing pain didn’t come, she hauled herself out of the car and onto the cool asphalt, hacking for breath._

_“Mildred!”_

_She spun, looking frantically in the car, but her mum wasn’t there. “Mum?!”_

_“Mildred!”_

_“Where are you?” She yelled, voice cracking._

_“Mildred!”_

_Mildred spun again, breaking into a sprint when she saw where her mum lay. “Mum?”_

_She cupped her mum’s face, recoiling in fear when the flesh gave way under her fingers. Staying a few feet back, she called again. Still on her back, limbs splayed around her, Julie twisted her neck sharply, staring at her daughter with cold, vacant eyes. Mildred screamed, scrambling away from those dead eyes, the empty hollow of her mum's cheeks where Mildred had touched._

_“Millie, Millie love.” Julie stood jerkily, reaching for her daughter._

_“You’re not my mum,” Mildred panted, backing away with her mum, trembling hands held out in front of her._

_“‘Course I am, love,” her mum cooed, still advancing, “and you can help me. A bit of magic and I’ll be good as new.”_

_“Really? H-how?”_

_“Just take my hand,” Julie extended a hand to her daughter who looked at it warily. Slowly, as if moving through molasses, Mildred reached out and grabbed her mum’s hand, screaming again when she felt the flesh give way under her hand. She tried to pull away, only to be caught in Julie’s vice-like grip._

_“Please! Please let me go!” She pleaded, trying to tug her hand away but to no avail. With her hand trapped, she could do nothing but watch as the decay spread over her mum’s body._

_“I guess they were right,” Julie’s skin began to rot before Mildred’s eyes, peeling off her body and revealing the white, splintering bone beneath. Her not-mum’s mouth twisted into a wicked grin, “you really are the worst witch.”_

* * *

When Mildred awoke, it was to the sound of screams. Hoarse and unfamiliar, it took her a moment before she realized they were her own.

“Mildred Hubble, what is the meaning of that _infernal_ noise,” Hecate demanded as she transferred into the girl’s room. She had been in her chambers, looking through the accident file when the screams had begun, and her protection spell had been set off. The moment she materialized, she was caught by the suffocating, unchecked magic surging from the girl’s small form.

“M-Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred blubbered, tears and snot streaming down her face as she jumped out of bed and threw her arms around the woman.

Freezing, Hecate stiffened and stared down at the small figure pressing her face into Hecate’s chest. After a long moment, she gingerly wrapped her arms around Mildred. The simple touch, it seemed, was enough to soothe Mildred’s wild magic, calming the air fraught with electricity.

When Mildred’s sobs finally died down, she pulled back, swiping at her face with her sleeve. Hecate pursed her lips in distaste as she surveyed the mess Mildred had made, but banished it from her nightgown and summoned a handkerchief, handing it to the girl.

Mildred blew her nose noisily and offered the handkerchief back to Hecate who looked at it with no little apprehension. She could not be Mildred Hubble’s mother. Curling her lip, she banished it with a flick of her wrist.

“Thanks, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on the pair of black sweatpants Hecate had magicked her into, the black sweatpants that had been pristine before coming into contact with Mildred. There was just something about the young witch that seemed to draw chaos to her. 

“Hmm,” Hecate remarked, silently cursing Ada for not being there when Mildred's lower lip began to wobble. “Would you like to…discuss it?”

“She-She d-died…again,” Mildred choked out brokenly.

“It was a dream.” Hecate found herself out of her depth; it had been a long time since she’d had to soothe nightmares away.

“I just—I miss my mum,” Mildred sounded so small and broken, and Hecate knew she should be the one to hold her, to help her put herself back together again. But she couldn’t.

So she offered the next best thing. “I…understand.”

“How can you?” Mildred looked up at her, fresh tears shining in her eyes, and Hecate was taken aback by the anger in those young eyes, “I have magic! I could’ve saved her! My mum’s the only person I’ve got, and now she’s _dead_! Because of me!”

“It was _not_ your fault.” Mildred took a step back at the vehemence in her teacher’s tone. “It was a horrific accident, and the blame lies with no one but the operator of the other…vehicle.”

“It’s not fair!” Mildred's hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“In life, you’ll find not much is.” Had Mildred been thinking clearly, she might’ve been taken aback by the soft, rueful smile that accompanied her teacher’s uncharacteristically gentle tone. But as it was, she continued on as if she hadn’t heard Miss Hardbroom speak.

“Why didn’t you save her?!”

“It was…impossible.” And how Hecate wished it hadn’t been.

“How do you know? You didn’t even try! You don’t even care!” Mildred yelled, fresh tears streaming down her face, “just ‘cause you’re mean and horrible doesn’t mean you can try and make everyone else like you! Just ‘cause no one loves you doesn’t mean no one loves me! My mum loves— _loved_ me,” she corrected herself with a choked sob.

 _She’s not thinking clearly, she’s grieving,_ Miss Hardbroom reminded herself, gripping her timepiece tightly, though it was difficult to think over the roaring in her ears. She knew what the girls thought of her, but never in a million years had she expected the kind-hearted Mildred Hubble to say what she had.

As if her mind had suddenly caught up with her mouth, Mildred’s face went slack with horror, and she frantically scrambled for an apology.

“That is _enough_ ,” Miss Hardbroom hissed, holding up a hand to stop the jumbled apologies leaving the girl’s mouth. Mildred’s mouth snapped shut and she wiped at her face with the shoulder of her shirt again. Though she pursed her lips in displeasure at the action, Hecate ultimately ignored it. “I will send Miss Cackle up should you require further assistance.”

She transferred away, missing how Mildred slumped down to the floor, curled up with her arms around her knees, shoulders shaking. Materializing beside the headmistress’ desk, she waited until Miss Cackle acknowledged her existence, her hands balling and unballing at her sides.

“Something the matter, Hecate?” Miss Cackle asked mildly, checking the figures of the school’s budget report.

“I cannot—it’s not right—Mildred Hubble.” Exhaling sharply through her nose, Hecate pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she composed herself. “I beg of you, Ada, don't ask me to take in that _girl._ ”

“Oh dear, what happened?” The older witch finally looked up from the reports covering her desk, her eyes sympathetic.

After condensing and recounting the events of the past half hour or so, Hecate said, “I assure you, this would be...far better suited for yourself. You always were so—” she stopped sharply, blocking out the memories of another life.

“I can’t help but disagree, you have always been a wonderful…role model,” Ada finished carefully with a knowing look at her old friend. “But,” she gave a small smile upon seeing the tension in her deputy’s shoulders lessen, “I will speak to Mildred, and we’ll see if we can’t work this out, hmm?”

“Thank you.” With one last strained but grateful smile, Hecate transferred away to the safety of her chambers.

Watching her deputy go with a small sigh, Miss Cackle stood and, smoothing down the front of her sweater, transferred outside of Mildred’s room with the flick of her wrist. “Mildred? May I come in?” She knocked but received no response. Frowning, she pushed the door open, face softening at the scene in front of her.

Mildred was still on the floor, her back to the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She didn’t look up when Ada came in the room nor when the headmistress sat down beside her. 

“Lemon drop?” The older woman offered warmly, pulling one out of her pocket.

Mildred shook her head, still hiding her face behind her knees. “I-I was _horrible_ ,” she hiccuped, sniffling, “and now she-she’s never going to forgive me…ever!”

“Oh, well now, I’ve known Miss Hardbroom for a long time, Mildred, and if there’s one thing I know about her, it’s how much she cares for you girls. You may not have meant to hurt her, but it happened and now it’s done. All you can do is apologize and move on. And I can tell you with the utmost certainty that you will be forgiven.” Miss Cackle offered her a smile though she knew Mildred wouldn’t see it.

Mildred finally looked up with a small nod and threw her arms around Miss Cackle in an awkward side hug. Taking a ragged breath, Mildred couldn’t stop the new onslaught of tears. It was all wrong. She didn’t want Miss Cackle’s soft embrace or the faint, floral smell sticking to her clothes. She wanted her mum, how Mildred fit perfectly under her chin, the comforting scent of her mum's orange and vanilla shampoo invading her senses. “I want my mum.”

Miss Cackle nodded sadly but didn’t say anything, gently rubbing the girl’s back. When Mildred’s sniffles finally died down, she pulled away from Miss Cackle and asked in a small voice, “can we go see Miss Hardbroom?”

“I think it might be best if we waited until tomorrow,” Miss Cackle told Mildred kindly, knowing her deputy. Mildred’s face fell, but she nodded sadly. “Come on then, back to bed. It’s a new day tomorrow, plenty of time to talk to Miss Hardbroom.”

Mildred nodded again, getting to her feet. After scrambling to help the older witch off the ground, she crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Goodnight, Miss Cackle.”

“Goodnight, Mildred. Things will start to look up soon,” Miss Cackle promised her. And though Mildred didn’t believe her, she nodded, yawning widely. Within mere moments, she was asleep again.

With a small sigh, sad eyes taking in the girl’s small form, Miss Cackle transferred away.

“Hecate?” She called, knocking softly on the door. The door swung open and slammed shut behind her. Hecate sat stiffly in a leather armchair with her back to the door, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.

“Is she…alright?” Hecate asked, her face twisting almost as if it pained her to ask.

“She will be." Ada seated herself across from her deputy, summoning her own cup.

“Don’t you see, this is exactly why I cannot do as you ask,” Hecate snapped.

“Oh Hecate,” Ada said, watching her with pitying eyes, “you know this is how it goes. It’s a bumpy road, it’s not going to be perfect, but you know the path.”

“They are nothing alike.” Hecate frowned.

“Really? You see, I find myself disagreeing again,” Ada gave her a knowing look, feigning innocence, “do Mildred’s heart and need to defend her friends, does her _fire_ not remind you of anyone else?”

“The girl has a _c_ omplete lack of magical control.” Hecate tried to spit the words with all their usual venom but found her heart wasn’t in it.

“Oh, yes, I couldn’t agree more. But, remind me please, was it someone else who was constantly setting little fires around the cottage? Now, I may be getting this wrong, but I do seem to remember helping a little girl off the ceiling when she couldn’t get her feet unstuck. She learned, so can Mildred.”

“I…suppose you might have a point.” Hecate sighed, her admittance begrudging. Her lips quirked up into an almost imperceptible, wistful smile as she remembered those times from so very long ago.

“Good! So you’ll think about it?” Ada prompted.

“I…will,” Hecate acquiesced with a glare at the older woman, though there was no true venom in it.

“Thank you, Hecate. I think this will be a good thing…for the both of you.” Ada gave her another sad smile before transferring away.

* * *

The next morning found a sheepish Mildred Hubble standing outside Miss Hardbroom’s door, willing herself to knock. The moment she raised her hand, the door swung open and there stood Miss Hardbroom, her eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Oh, erm, Miss Hardbroom, I'm really, really sorry about all the things I said yesterday. It was mean a-and horrible, and I _really_ didn’t mean any of it!”

And perhaps it was the earnest, hopeful way the girl looked up at her, or the tears welling up in Mildred’s eyes, or the fact she hadn’t been expecting an apology (though she should’ve known better by now, this was Mildred Hubble after all), but Miss Hardbroom found herself giving a short nod. “Thank you.”

“Y-You forgive me?”

Miss Hardbroom fought the urge to roll her eyes, of course she forgave the silly girl. Instead she offered a tiny smile, barely more than a quirk of her lips. “Yes, Mildred Hubble, I do…forgive you.”

Mildred brightened and leaned forward, catching herself when her arms lifted from her sides. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at her feet, though she couldn’t quite hide the tears glistening in her eyes. When Mildred began sniffling, Miss Hardbroom’s eyes widened, her brows rising as her hands flexed uselessly by her sides.

“Sorry,” Mildred brushed the tears away, “it’s just something my mum always t-told me. Never apologize unless you really mean it, ‘cause if you don’t, they’ll never believe you again.” Seeing the odd look of Miss Hardbroom’s face, she blushed and apologized again.

“Don’t be, your mother sounded like a very…smart woman,” Miss Hardbroom tried, frowning when Mildred shrugged sullenly.

“You don’t have to say that, Miss Hardbroom. I know you don—didn’t like her.”

“Mildred Hubble,” Miss Hardbroom couldn’t hold back her chastising tone, “have you ever known me to say something that I do not _entirely_ mean?”

Mildred stared down, toeing the ground, and shrugged again, “I guess not.”

“Good,” Miss Hardbroom replied simply, hesitating for a moment before opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Eyes wide, Mildred stepped in, unable to keep herself from taking a look around. It all looked surprisingly…normal. Miss Hardbroom had multiple rooms, but the one they entered seemed to be a sitting room, complete with a couple comfortable looking armchairs, a wool rug covering the cold, stone floor, and what appeared to be a coffee table, though it was so thoroughly covered by books on subjects Mildred had never even heard of that she couldn’t be sure. The entire room was in muted colors, black and deep browns, that seemed entirely suited to her stoic form mistress.

“If you are quite finished, you may sit,” Miss Hardbroom had an eyebrow up, feigning impatience to cover her initial apprehension at allowing someone into her space.

“Sorry…it’s nice,” Mildred blushed and rushed to take a seat across from her teacher, tripping on her loose shoelaces and face-planting on the floor. Well, almost. Just as her face was about to collide with Miss Hardbroom’s nice, black rug, Mildred found herself suspended in the air, staring wide-eyed at the carpet just inches away from her nose. With a flick of Miss Hardbroom’s wrist, Mildred found herself seated across from the unimpressed woman, shoes neatly tied.

“And you wonder why I tell you to keep your laces tied,” Miss Hardbroom drawled. She truly did despair for the future of witchcraft.

“Sorry.” Mildred ducked her head, cheeks still flushed from her embarrassing near brush with death.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Miss Hardbroom summoned a freshly brewed pot of tea. “Tea, Mildred?”

And though she was still astonished by Miss Hardbroom’s uncharacteristic kindness, Mildred pulled herself together enough to quickly nod and ask for just a dash of milk and four sugars. Miss Hardbroom obliged, though an eyebrow (perhaps of its own volition) rose at the amount of sugar she added, and passed it to Mildred.

“Thank you, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred took a small sip of her tea, wincing and blowing on it. They sat in silence for a few moments before Mildred looked up at her deputy head, who was watching her pensively. “Erm, Miss Hardbroom? Why am I here?”

Pursing her lips, Miss Hardbroom tried not to show her hurt at the question and responded icily, “if you are truly that…averse to my company, you may go.” The door swung open at her words.

“No!” Mildred yelped hastily, “no, that’s not what I meant! I like your company, I mean, you’re the smartest, most witchiest witch I’ve ever met.”

Miss Hardbroom suppressed a smile at that, wondering if Mildred Hubble’s kind and loyal heart would ever cease to amaze her. It unfortunately did not, however, provide her with an excuse for why she couldn’t take in the girl.

“It’s just,” Mildred continued, “why am I at Cackle’s?”

“Ah…it has been decided that you will be living here until we are able to find you a suitable guardian.”

“A guardian? Like someone who’s going to protect me? Is that a witch thing?” Mildred asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I believe the term is the same in both the magical and non-magical worlds. Your guardian will…” Miss Hardbroom hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “in a sense, take on the role of a parent.”

“Oh,” Mildred’s mood soured, “like my mum?”

“They would not replace your mother, Mildred,” she corrected quickly, though not quite sharply. “They would provide a home for you, but, in accordance with our laws and the Code, they would not be your _parent_ unless they adopted you.”

“Oh,” Mildred said again, staring down at her tea, “well, can I go live with Leanne then? Mum always let me stay over with her.”

“You may not.” The reply wasn’t harsh, but it was final.

“Why not?” Mildred scowled.

“She is non-magical.”

“My mum’s non-magical! Was—was non-magical,” Mildred finished defeatedly, her lower lip wobbling as she fought not to cry.

“We will not risk further exposing our world to the non-magical.” Miss Hardbroom barely kept her tone level. Sometimes she really did wonder why she worked with children, not that she had had many other choices.

“What about my friends, can’t I stay with them?”

“No.”

Mildred groaned in frustration and stood, tea sloshing out of her cup. “That’s not fair! Can’t I decide anything?!”

“Sit down.” Hecate hissed through clenched teeth. Mildred sat, putting her cup to the side, still glaring at the older witch. “You will have a choice as to who your guardian will be once we have compiled a list. I will not hear any more _whining_ from you, do you understand me?”

Sufficiently chastised, Mildred stared down at her feet, “yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

“A funeral will be held for your mother in the non-magical world. Leanne Stewart will be arranging it, and you may assist…if you feel up to it,” the woman added as almost an afterthought.

Mildred nodded dejectedly, plucking half-heartedly at the loose strand on the sweatpants she still wore. “Does she know what’s happening? Leanne?”

“At the moment, she believes my name is Hecate Harroway and I am a distant relative with whom you will now be living, so it would be…ideal if you were not to address me as Miss Hardbroom in her presence. She remains unaware of our world so do refrain from making any more _comments_ about magic around her.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred nodded glumly. The two sat in silence for a few more moments until Mildred caught sight of Miss Hardbroom’s familiar watching her with narrowed eyes from the top of the chest of drawers. “Is that your cat, Miss Hardbroom?”

“Who else’s cat could that possibly be?” Her teacher asked dryly.

Mildred shrugged. “What’s its name?”

“ _Her_ name is Morgana.” Came the terse reply.

“That’s a pretty name.” After a moment, Mildred gasped, “Tabby! I forgot about Tabby! Oh no, he’s all alone!”

“That reminds me, you need to collect your things from your…flat.” Hecate hesitated on the unfamiliar word before mentally berating herself for the callousness with which she had spoken. Mildred was biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, keeping her gaze fixed on the glaring cat in a bid to keep the tears from overflowing.

“Oh,” Mildred said quietly. “D-Do we have to do it now?”

“As soon as possible would be best.” Hecate made sure to gentle her voice.

Mildred nodded shakily. “Will you...come with me?” She asked in a small voice.

Hecate had half the mind to refuse, but when Mildred looked up at her with her teary, hopeful eyes, the stoic teacher felt her resolve crumbling. The girl had no one left, what could it possibly hurt to indulge her?

“We _had_ arranged for Miss Drill to accompany you,” Hecate said, watching Mildred’s face fall before the girl tried to put on a brave face and nod. “But,” Mildred brightened again, if only slightly, “given the circumstances, I will…if that is what you want.”

“Yes, please.” Mildred tried for a smile but didn’t quite succeed. “But can we still wait…just a bit. I-I don’t know if I can…”

“Certainly,” Miss Hardbroom replied briskly, standing from her chair and vanishing their cups. “If that is all, I'm quite busy.”

“Oh…erm, yeah. Thank you, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred said, not quite hiding her despondence as she stood and made her way to the door. And though Miss Hardbroom donned a disinterested and impatient affect, she couldn’t help the painful twisting in her chest as she watched Mildred continue her lonely existence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not quite sure how i feel about this chapter but i also don't know how to make it better so...here you go :)
> 
> tw: brief blood (not graphic)

The next few days Mildred spent at Cackle’s were spent almost entirely alone. After she missed a meal one day, unable to uncurl from where she lay in her bed, one of the teachers came to collect her for each one.

Miss Drill would come get her for breakfast, an almost cheery grin on her face and forced pep in her step, and together they would walk down to the dining hall, Miss Drill championing the benefits of exercise in the morning. She would offer to take Mildred for a run the next morning, and Mildred would smile weakly and shrug. They did the same the next morning.

Mr. Rowan Webb would come for her at lunch. Ever the gentleman, he waited outside the door until she emerged, her hair limp around her shoulders, and together they would walk down to the dining hall. He would skip down the stairs ahead of her, a spring in his step he would never truly lose, and encourage her to try as well. When they reached the hall, he would bow slightly and hold the door open for her with a ‘right this way, tadpole’. He never succeeded in bringing the smile he hoped to her face.

In the evenings, Miss Cackle would knock on her door and walk with her to the dining hall as slowly as Mildred liked. Sometimes they walked in silence, and sometimes Miss Cackle invited her to tea the next day. After meals, Mildred was typically left to walk back to her room alone, but after dinner, Miss Cackle walked her back up to the attic room, taking a detour through the gardens once or twice to try to bring a wan smile to Mildred’s face.

In those few days, Mildred only ever saw Miss Hardbroom at the few meals her teacher attended, during which they were seated on opposite sides of the long table. Once the meal was over and Mildred was trudging away, Miss Hardbroom was always already gone.

But after dinner one day, Mildred found herself in front of Miss Hardbroom’s door, hand raised to knock. Upon her soft knock, the door swung open, and she entered nervously. Miss Hardbroom sat in an uncomfortable looking rigid, wooden chair at a desk Mildred hadn’t noticed during her first visit, her planner open in front of her.

“What is it?” She didn’t look up from her work, deciding whether or not the third years would be ready for the material she had planned for the new term.

“Oh, erm, well…I-I want to go now,” Mildred said, only the slightest waver in her voice.

Miss Hardbroom finally turned, taking in Mildred’s disheveled appearance, the dark circles standing stark against the girl’s pale skin, skepticism plain on her face. “Are you quite sure?”

Mildred nodded. “Yes, Miss Hardbroom. I just—I can’t stay here any longer.” Seeing the odd look on her teacher’s look, she backtracked. “N-Not that I’m not grateful, I am…very. It’s just…I see her everywhere!” Mildred exclaimed, angrily brushing away the tears that dared well up. “And it _hurts_ , it really, really hurts.” Her voice broke.

“And you think returning to where the two of you…lived will help?” Hecate asked, using all her self-control to keep her voice neutral and non-judgmental.

“I don’t know,” Mildred admitted, looking down at her feet. “Maybe? But please, can’t I just try?” She pleaded with her teacher.

Regarding her student closely for a moment, Miss Hardbroom stood. “Very well. Be in the courtyard in ten minutes. Do _not_ be late.” She transferred Mildred away, her final words lingering with the girl a moment after she was transferred.

The few things Mildred had in her room had been magicked there by one of the teachers, so Mildred simply brushed her hair and wrangled it into her customary double plaits before washing her face. Running down the stairs, intent on not only not being late, but being early to meet Miss Hardbroom, something caught her eye and she slid to a stop.

A tiny, black kitten was strutting around the landing, something in his mouth. Sinking to the ground, Mildred extended a hand for the little kitten to sniff. “What’s that you got there, buddy?” The kitten crept forward and sniffed experimentally at her fingers before pressing his head against her palm, purring loudly. Running her fingers over his silky fur, Mildred put her face close to his to see what he had. “Oh no, spit that out!”

The cat did not, in fact, spit it out, crunching down on the cricket in his mouth with a smug look on his adorable face. Mildred wrinkled her nose and scooped him up, tucking him into the crook of her arm. “Let’s get you back to the kitten room, I bet all your friends miss you.”

Getting a bit turned around, it was a short while before Mildred found the kitten room. Placing him down on a pillow, she watched him make his way to a larger cat, pouncing on her tail before being subjected a vigorous cleaning session.

“Hello.” Mildred leaned over them, petting the larger cat. “Is this your mum, little guy? She looks like she loves you loads. No more running away then, alright?” The kitten mewed his assent, or what she assumed was his assent, and she grinned softly.

“ _Mildred Hubble_.” Mildred suddenly found herself in the courtyard and straightened awkwardly, meeting her irate teacher’s gaze. Miss Hardbroom snapped her timepiece shut and asked, her voice silky smooth. “Did I or did I not say ten minutes?”

“You did.” Mildred looked down at her shoes, color rising in her cheeks.

“Then it is beyond me why you stand here seventeen minutes later when I gave you ample time to prepare yourself.”

“Sorry, Miss Hardbroom, it won’t happen again,” Mildred promised earnestly.

“See that it doesn’t,” Miss Hardbroom said, fully aware that it would happen again. Despite her efforts, she feared Mildred would never truly learn to be on time or, gods above, early. With a twist of her fingers, she transferred the two of them to Mildred’s flat.

Materializing right inside the door, Miss Hardbroom watched Mildred survey the flat, lower lip wobbling, before setting her jaw, a determined look in her eye. Miss Hardbroom gave a short node, Mildred would be alright.

“Right,” Miss Hardbroom looked around, keeping her face remarkably neutral, “is there somewhere you prefer I begin?”

“O-Oh, you’re helping?” Mildred couldn’t keep the shock off her face. She had assumed, wrongly so, that Miss Hardbroom would just be transferring her to and from the academy.

“That was the purpose of my...accompanying you, was it not?” Miss Hardbroom replied a tad snippily.

“Maybe the kitchen?” Mildred wasn’t exactly spoiling for a fight with her formidable teacher.

With a short nod, Miss Hardbroom summoned a few boxes, handing one to Mildred, before setting off. With a box open on the kitchen table, the cupboards and cabinets opened all at once, dishes and utensils floating out one by one and packing themselves into the box.

“Perhaps you would like to begin... _packing_ rather than stare at me all day.” Miss Hardbroom suggested, her back still to Mildred who was staring at her, mouth agape in awe.

Coloring slightly, Mildred grabbed a box and ran to her room. When she reached the doorway, she almost couldn’t go in. Steeling herself, Mildred forced herself to enter, biting her lip harshly to slow the inevitable flow of tears. It was when she turned on the lights that the first of many fell.

Her room had always been a bright, welcoming place, the drawings and paintings covering every square inch breathing life into the four walls. But as she stepped inside, it no longer held that vibrance. The colors were muted, a faded memory of what had once been. It didn’t live up to all that her mum had been.

With an angry yell, Mildred launched herself at the nearest drawing, tearing and ripping it down from the wall. She continued with the rest, fingers scrabbling at the corners and edges of the art in a frenzied attempt to tear them down. In her agitation, she hardly noticed when sharp edges slid under the tips of her fingernails or when her quick movements drew blood along her fingers or even when a tall shadow materialized at her side and pulled her away from the papery ruins.

Mildred struggled and fought against Miss Hardbroom’s hold, kicking and flailing and screaming but to no avail. Miss Hardbroom held Mildred’s arms against her sides as she held her close to her chest in a bid to protect them both. After a few long moments, Mildred fell limp in her teacher’s arms, sweat plastered to her forehead and tears streaming down her cheeks.

She took solace in Miss Hardbroom’s sharp angles and silence, grounding herself in their unfamiliarity. Physically and emotionally taxed, Mildred swayed on her feet, her head pounding. Miss Hardbroom’s arms around her were the only things keeping her vertical.

The deputy headmistress clicked her tongue softly and scooped Mildred up, the girl barely able to process the ease with which Miss Hardbroom had done so. Miss Hardbroom transferred them back to the academy and wordlessly drew the covers of Mildred’s bed back, placing the girl down. With another wordless spell, Mildred was clean again and in a fresh pair of pajamas.

“Miss Hardbroom?” Her words slurring slightly, Mildred gazed up at her teacher miserably. “I’m sorry.”

Her apology was quiet, so quiet that Miss Hardbroom had to strain to hear it, but the teacher nodded, her lips twisting into a small, rueful smile. “As am I, Mildred.”

“Why’re you sorry? It was all my fault.” Mildred yawned, and Miss Hardbroom pulled the girl’s covers up to her chin.

“You weren’t ready, and I…I should not have left you alone.” Miss Hardbroom forced the words out for the sake of the girl before her who had known far greater pain than she could have ever deserved. “But…” Miss Hardbroom added softly, seeing Mildred’s eyes drift shut, “brave girl for trying.”

The last thing Mildred felt before drifting off and losing herself to what she hoped would be sleep’s sweet oblivion was a cool finger brushing across her forehead, the touch erasing the pounding in her head and easing her deeper into the darkness.

* * *

Hecate returned to the flat that night to finish packing. After packing up everything in the common areas and transferring it to Cackle’s for storing, Hecate continued on to Julie’s room. Trying not to pry into the life of a woman she had hardly known, she methodically packed each of Julie’s things away and sent them to the academy.With one last glance around the room, she went to the final room in the flat, Mildred’s. Instead of transferring the girl’s items to be stored, she sent them directly to Mildred’s attic room at Cackle’s. She even found Tabby, who had hidden under Mildred’s bed during the girl’s violent fit of rage.

The torn victims of Mildred’s rage, more than one marked by coppery smears, she wordless cleaned and repaired. As she watched the tears mend themselves, she cast a critical eye over a few, noting that as useless as the skill was, Mildred was not entirely talentless. Once repaired, she packed them away and sent them to the academy.

Finally finished, Hecate returned to her chambers at Cackle’s and stripped down to her undergarments, giving herself a once over in the bathroom mirror and smiling wryly at the blossoming bruise just under her left rib cage. Mildred must have elbowed her in her mad struggle to launch herself at the walls.

Applying some salve to the bruise, Hecate tried to remember the last time she’d had a bruise like that. It must have been…her smile dropped and her fingers stilled. Shaking herself, Hecate put the tin of salve back in its drawer and went to bed, frown still firmly affixed to her face.

* * *

Mildred woke up late the next morning, the tips of her fingers aching and her head pounding. In a bid to hide from the harsh sunlight streaming through her window, she rolled onto her side with a groan, squeaking when her senses were invaded by familiar, thick, bicolored fur.

“Tabby!” She exclaimed, sitting up and reaching for him, stopping mid reach to examine her fingers. She knew quite a few of them were covered in shallow cuts, but what surprised her was the thick, mottled green-grey paste slathered across the tops of them. It smelled of mint, or perhaps it was pondweed, she could never remember.

Unsure if she was allowed to wipe it off, Mildred attempted to pet Tabby with the few un-pasted fingers, the cat unimpressed by her efforts. He mewed plaintively and rubbed his head against her palm, purring in contentment when she stroked his silky fur, careful not to get the paste on him.

She lounged in bed for a few more minutes, petting Tabby before the pain in her head got to be almost too much. She groaned and rubbed her forehead, looking around for something that could help.There was a glass of ice water on her bedside table alongside a small tin with a note leaned against it. Mildred gently moved Tabby and shifted so she could grab the note, careful not to get her sticky fingers on the paper.

It was very simple. There were a few instructions for her: drink water, wash off paste with warm water, dry fingers, reapply paste to cuts. The note was unsigned, but Mildred instantly recognized the handwriting. It was the very same handwriting that had been tearing apart her essays since the beginning of the year.

Unwilling to anger her intimidating teacher, Mildred grasped the glass of water between her palms and took a few sips, sighing as the cool liquid brought relief to her throbbing head. When she had finished a little over half of the water, Mildred threw the covers back, careful not to dislodge Tabby, and took the note and tin with her to the hall’s communal bathroom.

That was one nice thing about being at Cackle’s by herself, Mildred supposed. There was no one to have to share the bathroom with. She rinsed the paste from her fingers, wincing as she patted them dry with a towel, the cuts still not entirely sealed. When she was sure they were dry, terrified to follow Miss Hardbroom’s instructions wrong, Mildred blew on her fingers and stuck them in the tin of salve that had accompanied the note.

As she wiped away the excess paste, Mildred choked back a sob, forgotten memories of tender fingers and funny faces and magic kisses rising unbidden from the depths of her mind. Her mum had always been there for her, for every single scrape she’d gotten herself into, but now, she wiped a tear away with the corner of her t-shirt, that part of her life was over, and there was no one to look after her but herself. And when questions of Miss Hardbroom came up in her mind, she brushed them away, reminding herself that it had just been her job as a teacher to give Mildred those things.

With a sigh, Mildred leaned against the sink and stared at her reflection, taking in the dark circles beneath her perpetually red-rimmed eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, only daring to open them when the burning had subsided. Then, with one last, small sniffle, she screwed the lid back on the tin, grabbed the note and shuffled back to her room.

When she entered her room, she gasped and her eyes went wide. She hadn’t noticed, but on the far side of her room stood neatly stacked boxes of her belongings, all organized and marked signaling the contents of each. Sitting on her knees, Mildred opened each box, a small grin, but a shadow of her usual, lighting up her face as her drawing supplies spilled out. Setting them on her desk, Mildred grabbed some clothes, feeling more like herself as she changed out of the borrowed pajamas.

Miss Drill didn't come to get her, so Mildred didn’t leave her room all morning, spending most of it lying on her bed, cuddling Tabby and Puss to her chest. Miss Hardbroom materialized in her room sometime mid morning while she was sadly bopping her bear to the beat of his little song. Mildred flushed and shoved him behind her. “M-Miss Hardbroom?”

Largely ignoring Mildred, Miss Hardbroom waved her hand and a dish appeared on Mildred’s bedside table. “Eat. Then come see me,” she ordered brusquely, transferring away just as quickly as she had come.

Mildred hauled herself to a sitting position. “What do you think she wants, Tabs?” She asked, carefully stroking his back with her palm. He mewed and flicked his tail but was otherwise unhelpful.Mildred sighed and grabbed the plate left on her table, poking at the unappetizing sludge with her fork. It was a moment before she dared try it, hoping it had somehow improved since she had been at school. It had not.

Screwing up her face in disgust, Mildred downed her glass of water to try to rid herself of the poor excuse for porridge. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, it hardly tasted of anything, but the texture was truly unpleasant. It was somehow simultaneously both a solid and a liquid with gritty patches that made her wonder if Miss Tapioca had ever read about stone soup and taken it a tad too literally.

Mildred offered it to Tabby, but even he refused it, sniffing at it delicately before turning his face away with a disgruntled meow. With a small chuckle, Mildred smoothed down his fur and dropped the plate back on her bedside table. Giving Tabby a kiss on his fluffy head, she ran a brush through her hair and left him curled around Puss in a warm patch of sunlight.

For the second time in as many days, Mildred found herself in front of Miss Hardbroom’s door, fist poised to knock. And once again, the door swung open the moment her hand touched the dark wood. This time, however, Miss Hardbroom was waiting, looking down at Mildred from her imposing height as she ordered her to come in.

Taking a cautious step in, Mildred hovered awkwardly just inside the doorway, watching Miss Hardbroom retreat to the armchairs.

Miss Hardbroom turned and raised an eyebrow. “Do you plan to waste all my time standing in that doorway today?” She drawled, eyeing Mildred disdainfully.

With a squeak, Mildred quickly rushed to the seat across from her intimidating teacher, careful not to trip on the rug a second time. When Mildred sat, situating herself in the comfortable armchair, Miss Hardbroom took a step away. “Wait here. Do not touch _anything.”_

Mildred nodded quickly and watched her teacher disappear into another room, Mildred’s brow furrowing in confusion when she emerged with a small, damp, grey towel and a tin. Mildred’s eyes went wide, her confusion only growing, when Miss Hardbroom crouched down in front of her, a movement that seemed as if it should’ve been restricted by her customary, sleek, black dress.

And when Miss Hardbroom took one of Mildred’s hands into her own, wiping the salve from the young witch’s fingertips with an unexpected tenderness, Mildred wondered briefly if she had fallen into another dimension or if, perhaps, someone had slipped Miss Hardbroom a personality potion.

“Miss Hardbroom?” Mildred tried to get her teacher’s attention, but though she cleaned her young pupil’s fingers gently and carefully, Miss Hardbroom’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. “Miss Hardbroom?” Mildred tried again, finally getting her teacher’s attention.

Miss Hardbroom ceased in her movements, her hand tightening around Mildred’s almost painfully before she released it a split second later, an indecipherable look passing over her face.

“Tell me,” Miss Hardbroom began briskly, her hands resuming motions, taking Mildred’s other hand and wiping it clean with a clinical efficiency, “what is the main component of this salve?”

“Oh, er, I don’t—is it pondweed?” Mildred stumbled through her answer, hazarding a guess as to what it was. Besides, pondweed was an ingredient she wasn’t likely to forget any time soon given the mishap at Selection Day. It had always struck her as strange that something so disgustingly slimy could smell so appealing.

“Pondweed,” Miss Hardbroom echoed, finally looking up and meeting Mildred’s gaze, her scrutiny making the girl squirm in her seat. After a moment, a brow quirked and Mildred could’ve sworn she saw something she didn’t dare call approval glittering in her teacher’s eye. “Correct.”

Mildred lit up, but Miss Hardbroom wasn’t done. “And _why_ is that?” She asked, moving to examine Mildred’s fingers, carefully pressing against the pads of Mildred's fingers and shifting them away from her nails.

“Erm, well, it’s because, well, the pondweed…” Mildred racked her brain for the answer, distracted by a wince when Miss Hardbroom examined a not yet healed cut.

“Do take your time,” Miss Hardbroom commented impatiently, moving on from her examination to reapply the salve to the tips of a few of Mildred’s fingers.

Mildred colored and guessed again. “Because it’s good for healing?”

“Because it’s good for healing,” Miss Hardbroom repeated slowly as if tasting each and every word and then deeming them unacceptable. “ _That_ is not an answer.” Mildred winced again. “What category of potions is pondweed most commonly used for?”

Mildred once again searched her memory but when she found nothing, she could only shrug and look away from her teacher’s disapproving gaze, frustrated at herself that she couldn’t answer.

Miss Hardbroom’s brows arched and she pursed her lips. “Mildred, _which_ of Ethel Hallow’s potions did you tamper with on Selection Day?”

“I didn’t tamp—” Mildred’s protests fell away from her lips at her teacher’s dark look, and she dutifully answered the question. “She said…she was going to turn into a dragon?” When Miss Hardbroom didn’t contradict her answer, Mildred tentatively continued. “So…a Dragon Transformation Potion?”

Again, Miss Hardbroom didn’t answer, though she did give Mildred an expectant look. It took a moment, but when Mildred put two and two together, she gasped quietly. “You use it in transformation potions, so now it’s—it’s,” she hesitated for a moment, “turning the cuts into healed skin?”

“Is that a _question_?” Miss Hardbroom asked, standing from her crouch and straightening to her full height.

“No?” Miss Hardbroom waited. “Pondweed’s in transformation potions, so in healing potions, it turns injuries into healed skin,” Mildred finished with as much confidence as she was able to muster.

Miss Hardbroom sank into her seat, regarding Mildred with yet another look she couldn’t quite read. “Pondweed is not simply in transformation potions, it _has_ transformative properties,” Miss Hardbroom corrected. Seeing Mildred wilt, she relented. “But…it was otherwise an…acceptable answer.”

Mildred brightened again, and this time, Miss Hardbroom had no more questions, though she knew her news would put a damper on the girl’s spirits. “Mildred, I have been contacted by Mistress Stewart.” Miss Hardbroom decided not to mince words, already seeing Mildred’s grin slip away. “A date and venue have been chosen for your mother’s...funeral.”

“When?” Mildred asked, her eyes no longer alight with the excitement of a challenge and satisfaction of gaining her stern teacher's approval.

“A week from Thursday.”

“Oh.” Mildred tried to keep her voice light. “So soon?” She bit her lip to stop its trembling and cast her gaze to the floor.

“Are you prepared to help? She has asked to see you…tomorrow if you are able,” Miss Hardbroom informed her, gentling her words when she saw how the young witch before her trembled.

“Will you come too?” Mildred whispered, looking up at her teacher.

“If that is what you wish.” Miss Hardbroom nodded stiffly and folded her hands atop her lap, the conversation uncomfortably like the one they’d had a few days ago.

“Yes, please.” Mildred gave her a strained smile. After a long moment, she nodded, her jaw set. “Okay. I-I want to go.” She stood, hugging her arms around herself. “Is it okay if I go back to my room now, Miss Hardbroom?”

“By all means.” Miss Hardbroom stood as well, and with a sharp snap, the door swung open again.

Her arms still wrapped around herself, Mildred slowly made her way to the door, Miss Hardbroom accompanying her for every step, stopping in the doorway and turning to look at her teacher. “Thank you…for the salve and my things.”

“You are...most welcome, Mildred Hubble.” Miss Hardbroom smiled, hardly more than a slight quirk of her lips, and watched her young pupil trudge down the hallway.

A part of her urged her to rush after the young witch and soothe every pain Mildred had ever been forced to feel. Another part ached for a life long since lost and served as a reminder of why exactly she should ignore the first part. A third part, the rational one, in Hecate’s opinion, told her to ignore the other two parts because accepting them only meant more pain.

There might have been time when she could have ignored the third part without another thought and gathered Mildred into her arms, showing her that while Julie’s death seemed insurmountable, Mildred would survive. She might have been that person once. But alas, that time was gone, and that person was dead.

So, instead, she turned away and slammed the door with a snap, pulling out her planner and allowing scheduling and her diminishing supply of yellow, fat-tailed scorpion stingers to drive out all thoughts concerning one Mildred Hubble.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://inspiringmadness.tumblr.com/)


End file.
